


someone (very much) like you

by blindbatalex



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: EDIT: now featuring a v long and fluffy epilogue upon popular demand, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, There is no angst, chara is the supportive team dad, in which case lots of angst, poor baby, tag for hospitals and injuries, though everything is super non-graphic, unless you are brad, unrequited crushes cough cough, very unrequited indeed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-19 21:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/pseuds/blindbatalex
Summary: Bergy seems to have found the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Marchy is too out of it to realize justwhothis person happens to be.





	1. Chapter 1

The outside world filters back slowly, in bits and pieces. The side of his head makes itself known first - draws Brad’s attention in a throbbing, almost rhythmic pain. A machine is beeping in the background in regular intervals, and there are human voices too - faint in the distance, as well as closer to him, though he can’t make out what they are saying yet.

There is a hand holding his. It’s cold and clammy and seems to be holding onto Brad for dear life. Brad tries to wriggle his hand free from its icy grasp but to no avail; his hand doesn’t want to cooperate. 

It’s dark too - pitch black in fact, which is odd. Where is he exactly? Why does his body feel weightless and leaden at the same time and why won’t it cooperate?

And then he remembers.

He is by the Bruins bench, in an awkward position and almost about to lose his balance. He still has the puck though - he can see Pasta to his right - if he can just protect it and make the pass--

He doesn’t see the Hawks defender until he comes barrelling into him, sends him flying headfirst into the boards by the bench.

Yikes.

(“...isn’t the place but I think...” a voice says on the edge of his consciousness before it floats away again. It sounds familiar. Sad.)

People try to talk to him somewhere along the way, doctors, but their faces blur and blend together in his mind; for all Brad knows they were talking about parrots.

Parrots. That’s funny. It’s a shame there is no one laughing at his excellent joke.

But there is someone else there too - someone telling him it will be alright when it really doesn’t feel like it will, but they put so much faith into their words that Brad has no choice but to believe it with them. 

Someone. Someone Brad knows and trusts with his life-- If he could just remember--

(“...like you know when you found the one”, the voice says now, “the person you want to spend the rest of your life with but--” The words tumble out in starts and stops, hushed like a confession - hurt.)

Bergy.

Fuck, it’s Bergy.

Brad reels with the realization. Thinking about what happened is making him feel like he will be sick but- what he hears--

Bergy is in love?

That’s news to him. Like, Bergy has been dating sure, but Brad always thought it was on the casual side, not the person-I-want-to-spend-my-life-with soulmates shit. He has been told he can be oblivious sometimes but, it makes him a pretty terrible best friend, doesn't it, if Bergy found the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and Brad thought she was one step up from a friends with benefits situation.

(And that, he tells himself, is the only reason for the wave of disappointment that washes over him. That, and the head injury.)

It is odd also, and just a little outside what’s socially acceptable, to make a heartfelt love confession about your girlfriend when your friend is lying unconscious in a hospital bed, but whatever. Brad is happy if Bergy is happy. He and Naomi make a cute couple. 

(A cute couple who will spend the rest of their lives together.) 

(It’s great. Wonderful, really.)

Bergy takes in a shaky breath and he releases the death grip he has on Brad’s hand a little, opts to caress the soft skin on the inside of Brad’s wrist with his thumb instead. 

Brad tries not to focus on the sensation - on how good it feels - and concentrates on trying to open his eyes instead. It’s not fair that Bergy’s touch has this magic effect on him. It grounds him when he is nervous, registers as a physical ache in his chest after particularly tender cellies that somehow manage to be too much and nowhere near enough.

And now, here, it fills him with this warmth, makes him feel safe, _loved_ \- which, yeah given what he just found out, not fair.

He has made it to a light flutter when Bergy stops him in his tracks.

“He is just---he isn’t like anyone else I know.”

Brad does a double take.

He?

Is Brad that out of it or did Bergy just admit to-- 

No way. Patrice Bergeron is many things but he is not into men. Brad would have definitely known. He even like, covertly took Bergy to a gay club once and Bergy spent the entire night glued to his side, talking only to him and dancing only with him, obviously uncomfortable with the setting.

“He drives me mad sometimes, but-- he is kind and always willing to go the extra mile and he is-- he is one of the best men I know.” Bergy continues softly, killing all doubt with a single sentence.

Brad carefully adjusts the mental image he had of Bergy’s wedding so that Naomi is replaced with a handsome groom. The part where Brad is wearing his favorite blue suit and stuffing his face with wedding cake to drown his sorrows doesn’t change though. That part stays just the same.

Almost as if to drive the point home, Bergy lets go of his hand. It falls softly on the bed - though Brad is almost sure he managed to twitch a finger it’s not enough to hold on to. There is some shuffling - Bergy must have gotten up - and the sheets feel cold under his fingers.

To say that Brad yearns for the cold embrace of death would be taking it too far but Brad yearns for the cold embrace of death, or at the very least unconsciousness, just a little bit. The time he spent wondering, _wanting_ , before he shut that avenue of thought for good, _and all this time_ , all this time Bergy was into men. 

Just. Not into _him._

If he could Brad would sigh dramatically and head to the gym. Since he can’t he makes do with letting his mind wander and zones out.

*

Someone is speaking when he resurfaces. Someone who is familiar, has an accent and sounds kind and wise even before Brad can make out the words. 

Z.

“...am sure it wouldn’t be easy,” Z is saying, “but you know we have your back.”

Brad gives himself a mental high five. He managed to stay out enough for them to move on to a more benign subject. 

“Besides, the way he looks at you--” 

(...or maybe not. As if he would be so lucky.)

Z chuckles, like he can’t quite believe it and Brad can almost see him shake his head. “Man.”

Brad rues his luck. Who is this guy anyway who is so great and in love and precious? 

It must be someone Brad knows if Z knows him too. Then again up until today Brad didn’t realize the person Bergy wanted to spend the rest of his life with was a dude, nor would he have expected Z, their captain and an old person for God’s sake, to know more about Bergy’s love life than he did, so who even is to say. 

Bergy laughs back in return but it comes out strangled, too raw.

“I--” he says, “I am sorry. I’m just exhausted.” His voice breaks at the end and Brad realizes that he must be crying. Fuck, Bergy is crying.

Z tells him to never apologize - _not for this_. Brad is grateful he is there for Bergy when he can’t be but Bergy is hurting and it’s not enough. 

And this fucking guy. What a piece of work if he doesn’t realize how fucking lucky he is to have Patrice Bergeron dote on him and what a bastard for letting Bergy suffer like this.

Brad will need to have a word or two with him to set the record straight the second he is able to. And anyone who has a problem with it, including this stupid dude or the rest of the league or whoever, can come fight him. Bergy is the best man Brad knows and fuck him if he won’t do his utmost to make sure he is happy. Even if it means he is meant to be with someone else.

Brad will show them both. Set them up on a date too probably while he is at it because they seem too oblivious to figure it out on their own and _someone_ needs to intervene.

Just.

He just needs to figure out who this person is, which isn’t easy given how much his head hurts right now.

There is the masseuse Jimmy who manages to draw a moan or two out of Bergy everytime he gets his hands on him, but he is well, married. Brad can only hope Bergy hasn’t fallen for a married guy because he would get there but it would also be one hell of a situation to disentangle.

Then there is the barista at their local coffee shop who always smiles a little too widely at Bergy and has even given him free coffee once. Though that might have been a loyalty program thing - Brad isn’t sure. And it’s one thing for Brad to notice the way this guy looks at Bergy but how did Z?

It could be someone from the team also but Brad only gets a throbbing ache when he tries to remember just who exactly is playing on their team.

They probably mentioned his name too when Brad had zoned out which he would have caught had he not been too busy moping.

“You can play through a broken rib but you can’t be superhuman all the time.” Z says softly. “You are fine. 

Bergy sobs once in return - a choked off sound as if it escaped from Bergy’s throat of his own will. It hurts Brad somewhere in his chest, registers almost as a physical pain.

Fuck. Brad has to know. He has to act.

Somewhere in there Bergy has taken Brad’s hand in his again and Brad zooms in on that sensation now to focus himself. He is the league’s most disliked pest no one knows how to stop and no one is doing that to his friend. Not on his watch.

“Marshy?” Bergy says, and it’s all Brad needs to finally get his eyelids to cooperate.

 

Light floods in, too bright and blinding like a flashlight pointed right at his eyes. Brad squints against it, waits for the sensation to subside.

“Brad, hi.” Bergy says again; his face slowly comes into focus along with the rest of the room. His eyes are red and he looks tired as fuck but his smile reaches all the way to his eyes.

“Who is he?” Brad asks. It comes out as jumbled sounds rather than words on the first try so he tries again, slower this time. His voice sounds strange to his ears, rusty.

At that Bergy frowns a little. His hand reaches to up to the uninjured side of Brad’s head to smooth away his hair. 

Distracting. Why is this man always so fucking distracting.

“Your soulmate,” Brad tries again, trying hard to stay focused. Speaking takes up an incredible amount of energy but it doesn’t matter, not now. “I’m gonna have a word with the bastard. Doesn’t know what he is missing.”

Both Bergy and Z chuckle at that, the sound drawn out of them entirely by surprise. They smile and shake their head as if at a pet that tried to run through a glass pane.

Brad frowns. He is a pest. He gets called a rat but he is not a foolish pet. And this shit matters for God’s sake. It’s too important to laugh away.

“Let’s get you back on your feet and I will tell you, okay?” Bergy says warmly. “I promise.”

Brad tries, briefly, to get on his feet, odd as the request is but he doesn’t get far between the cables that get in the way, his laden feet and both Bergy and Z gently pushing him back. 

Once he settles back in the bed he gives Bergy the meanest look he can manage in his current state and says “you better,” putting all his conviction into the words. Bergy is mistaken if he thinks Brad will let this go; let him suffer on his own.

Something in what he said must be very funny because it elicits a fresh round of laughter from the both of them.

Brad kind of wants to punch them both uncooperative as they are being, but their laughter carries so much relief he can’t really begrudge it to them. 

He would do anything to see Bergy happy - and the same with Z - even if it means he gets to be the butt of a joke he doesn’t understand or has to eat half of Bergy’s wedding cake to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was never supposed to have more than one chapter so you can stop here and be done with it if you don't want to read a criminally long and fluffy epilogue! But the end notes are still over there though <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all asked for an epilogue. It turned into 1.4k on its own and I can't edit it down -- so here it is: an epilogue that's almost as long as the original fic. Do with it what you will.

“So how did you two get together? It couldn’t have been easy,” Dave asks. Brad puts his hands in his pockets, looks just to the left of the Behind the B camera and offers a half-shrug with a calculated shy smile playing on his lips. Finally he is the one being asked that question and he’s got this.

“Oh, when you are truly meant to be with someone the universe has a way of bringing you together,” he says. “It took us a while but given who Bergy is and who I am it was only a matter of time before we ended up together.”

Dave smiles at him, looking satisfied. Dave is new on the job, which is probably why he looks satisfied but that’s fine by Brad. He is not one to complain.

That is of course, until Bergy walks over sporting a champagne flute and his usual gorgeous smile. There is a faint pink blush on his cheeks from the alcohol and the late afternoon sun catches on his hair. The two combined almost make him look like a radiant celestial being and Brad would argue that he was but his thoughts are nowhere near so pure when Bergy looks that sharp in his tuxedo. 

He comes to a stop next to Brad and puts his hand on the small of his back. 

“What are you guys talking about?” he asks and Dave tells him that Brad, no his “husband” was just telling them about how they go together.

Bergy’s grin widens at that and his eyes glint with pure mischief. “Was he now?” he asks and he is onto Brad long before Dave recounts his bullshit answer.

(Brad loves that word though even if he is about to be dragged. It’s music to his ears and hearing it gives him goosebumps the way winning the cup together in their last season together did. Man. They are actually married.)

“Honey,” Bergy says with mock offense, “you shouldn’t mislead the fans like that. They have a right to know. Here, allow me--”

~*~

**Boston, a few years ago.**

_It's 8.30 pm and Brad is being a little shit. He was dozing off in the sofa moments before but now he seems to have decided that he would rather die than go to bed._

*

“I won’t stand for this biased narration,” Brad interrupts, raising a hand in his own defense. “I was cooped up in the house for two weeks. Got a massive headache when I tried to walk for ten minutes that day and had already taken a two hour nap earlier.” 

“It’s true that you were always a lot to handle whenever you were out with injury or a suspension,” Bergy says in agreement.

Brad gasps with indignation. The gall of this man, after the stunts he pulled to play through various injuries over the years and worried Brad sick every time.

*

_Bergy tells him then that he is being stubborn for no reason and that there is no point in denying his brain the rest it needs to heal. And boy that strikes a nerve._

_“Oh,” Brad snipes back all of a sudden, arms crossed and his mouth drawn in\ a sneer. “Excuse me for not being as perfect as you are--always making the right decisions, always calm, in love with the perfect man. Saint Patrice.”_

_’In love with the perfect man.’_

_That stops Bergy in his tracks. Brad was so out of it that night at the hospital Bergy didn't think he remembered, kind of hoped he didn’t when he had revealed so much and said things he was barely ready to admit to himself. Now Brad is out for blood and if this is where he chooses to pounce Bergy isn’t sure he can handle it._

*

“I hate it when people call me Saint Patrice by the way ,” Bergy says, with a pointed look at Brad, “I’m not perfect.” 

They have kind of had this discussion before, a couple dozen times. Today Brad feels like being charitable despite the low blow Bergy landed two minutes ago. 

So Brad tells them he really isn’t, wraps an arm around Bergy’s shoulder and leans into the camera like he is letting them in on a secret. “This bad boy here ran a red light once. Three years ago, I think.” 

Bergy scoffs. The cameraman smiles, like he knows exactly what Brad is talking about. Patrice Bergeron not perfect - pah.

*

_Bergys asks him what he remembers, cautiously, kind of dreading the answer, and Brad tells him he remembers everything: his whole confession, Chara, all of it. The spite in his voice cuts, deeper than it should._

_It is of course a massive bluff, but Bergy doesn’t know that yet - not for another twenty seconds anyway._

_Brad stands his ground. He looks Bergy in the eye, with the focus of a hunter who has seen his prey wobble and is ready to pounce._

_“Speaking of this guy,” he says bitterly, “you think he is the real deal but he sounds like a total loser to me if he is too stupid to realize you like him. Like, you aren’t subtle, ever. And if you found the one duche who thinks he can do better than you then sorry but you got exactly what you deserve._

*

Brad watches them laugh and declares that none of them have any sense of shame - laughing at him when he was recovering from a head injury. He remembers that moment very clearly though, when Bergy looked at him uncomprehending as if he had just seen a horde of flying zambonis outside his window and then let out an inhuman snort. Brad had thought Bergy was mocking him and almost turned around and left the house in a huff.

“So, how did you figure it out?” Dave asks.

Ah, Bergy’s favorite part in the entire thing.

“Simple. I wrapped an arm around his shoulder, took him to the nearest mirror and told him he would figure out the identity of my mystery guy if he stood there long enough.” Bergy shrugs. “Took him a while but he figured it out eventually.”

If they were among friends this would be the point where he took out his phone and passed around the video of Brad standing in front of the mirror and looking extremely puzzled but he spares Brad this time, seeing as they are in front of a camera.

Brad had wondered for a moment there, staring at his reflection - a longer moment than he would care to admit - whether Bergy was making a point about how short his soulmate was --like Torey. Brad had never seen Bergy look so appalled as he did when Brad shared it later.

“This is going to be gold,” Dave says once they have stopped rolling. He is still grinning ear to ear. “I had no idea.”

“Neither did he,” Bergy deadpans and Brad can still hear them laughing as they walk away.

There is more to the story of course. The way Bergy looks at him when Brad stumbles back into the living room, wide eyed like he is a little scared. When he sits Brad down a few days later and repeats what he said at the hospital that night so Brad can hear it properly this time - the way he takes Brad’s hand in his in the end and tells him that it’s his failing if he ever made Brad feel like he wasn’t good enough.

The rest of the world don’t get to put their hands on that part though, the memory of it is too beautiful to be a party trick.

“Ugh,” Brad says, “really regretting how we let Sweeney sweet talk us into inviting Behind the B by talking about family and shit.”

Bergy turns to him. They are standing pressed against each other, so his face ends up inches away from Brad’s, with no space in between. He smirks and man that does things to Brad - combined with how good he looks in his tux and how Brad had to keep his hands to himself the entire day they need to leave this reception and soon.

“What family - I scored us our own loge at the Garden for life in exchange for this, Bradley. Don’t tell me you have grown soft.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, friends. Kudos and especially comments are always welcome - they help me write better because positive feedback is one hell of a drug! I'm on tumblr @blindbatalex if you want to come say hi and almost always taking prompts. <3
> 
> EDIT: this is the power of commenting heh i.e. why this epilogue exists. I hope it was to your liking!


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